


Piano, drawings and cigarette smoke

by BananoweBudynie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, artist jaemin, pianist jeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananoweBudynie/pseuds/BananoweBudynie
Summary: Jaemin isn't a fan of classical music but maybe, maybe, Jeno can change his point of view with his smooth gestures and cigarette smoke.





	Piano, drawings and cigarette smoke

**Author's Note:**

> The age I mention in the story is their korean age.

Jaemin isn’t used to attending classical music concerts but when Renjun proposes to take him to one of his friend’s, he doesn’t oppose. There is no logical explanation to his answer. It might have been Renjun’s excitement or the fact that the event is far from being overly fancy and artsy. Maybe Jaemin just needed a little bit of a fresh inspiration for his drawings. (Another may be that there is supposed to be free food after the concert.)

Jisung joins them and the three of them make their way into the café, where the concert will take place. They redressed from their school uniforms and into some casual clothes, which don’t make them look older, but at least the fact that they are high schoolers is not fully on the display. They blend in well, not gaining any unwanted attention and sit by a little table situated in the further back of the café.

It is quite a mystery, how Renjun and Jisung both know the boy, who’s going to give the concert tonight, and Jaemin have never met him before. He’s been friends with Renjun since the beginning of high school and known Jisung even before the younger got to the first grade in their school. Well, maybe there is always time to meet someone new.

As Jisung and Renjun get caught up in their conversation about the younger’s _colorful_ language, Jaemin takes a better look at the venue. There are about five rows of chairs before him and few tables – just like their – by the walls. On the opposite end of the room from them stands a black grand piano with an opened lid. Unconsciously he imagines a set of lines, undefined shapes and patches of smudged shadows.

In the last months of high school, Jaemin decides to follow his dreams and apply to Seoul Institute of the Arts. Drawing has played a major role in most of his life, being the factor that kept him sane, when the world came tumbling down. Even though, he knows that art majors tend to have problems with having a well – paid job, he is determined to become an artist. Because in his whole life, art was what made him realize the true value of taking each breath and facing another day.

He hopes no one will complain, if he draws a little during the concert.

“Here comes the birthday boy.” Jaemin hears Renjun saying and as he turns to the person his friend is talking to, he sees a boy (man?), probably his age, standing by their table. His black hair is styled up to bring out his handsome features. Jaemin cannot disclaim the attractiveness of the other.

But then he realizes that the boy is dressed in a three piece suit as the only person in the whole café, which means he must be the one giving the concert. Poor thing, Renjun never mentioned that it’s his _birthday_ concert and maybe Jaemin should thought about a _present_ too. He doesn’t want to seem rude, but well fuck.

“Glad you could make it,” he says addressing Renjun and the depth of his voice shocks Jaemin. He might have dropped his jaw a little. Then the boy turns to Jisung. “Hi, shithead.”

The youngest looks a little bit offended, sports a frown, but nonetheless hands the other a box signed _“from Renjun and Jisung <3”_. Jaemin feels shame creeping onto his insides. If only Renjun had told him, he would have joined in funding the present.

“You also said you wanted something pretty,” says Jisung and suddenly his eyes shift to Jaemin. The smirk on his face does not announce anything positive. “that’s why we had to bring our friend.”

It’s supposed to be a joke – Jaemin has been friends with Park Jisung for far too long – but it doesn’t keep a faint blush from creeping onto his cheeks. Fortunately, _the boy_ just brushes the joke off and stick his hand out to Jaemin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lee Jeno.”

“Jaemin. Na Jaemin.”

The handshake is warm.

 

 

 

Before the concert, Jeno’s father gives an opening speech about the specialty of tonight’s event. He briefly talks about how proud of his son he is and mentions that Jeno plays in this café about two to three times a month. He then takes his place and the lights are dimmed a bit. Jeno comes up to the piano, sits before it and straightens the cuffs on his sleeves. The gesture is professional but somehow looks funny to Jaemin. It may be Jeno’s 19th birthday, however, it doesn’t wash away the youth, the boyishness that surrounds him.

The chatter around the café dies out and just before Jeno’s fingers touch the very first key, there is a blank space void of any sounds. The anticipation rises, fills lungs of the audience and keeps the whole room on tenterhooks. It even reaches Jaemin, who with all the love to paintings and poetry isn’t well unacquainted with classical music. He likes it but surely is not an expert.

The concert starts with Johann Sebastian Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in G minor – at least that’s what is written in the program. The melody is captivating, it somehow suits Jaemin’s taste, but as it goes on, he involuntarily starts spacing out. Once again black lines fill up his vision, follow the shapes of chairs and people sitting in front of him. He needs to draw.

So Jaemin slowly takes out a sketchbook and a pencil from his bag, sets them on the table and draws. His hand is following the shapes before his eyes, as his mind gets fogged up by the melody flowing from under Jeno’s fingers. Jaemin has never tried sketching, while listening to classical music, but he starts to develop a liking to it now.

The break arrives after three pieces and five pages of Jaemin’s drawings. The audience starts clapping, as Jeno rises from his sit, bows and then leaves the room.

“Can’t you stand just a minute without drawing anything?” asks Jisung, as he pulls the sketchbook to take a better look at Jaemin’s work.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” he answers and stands up from his seat. “How long is the break?”

Renjun looks up at him, sending him a knowing look. “Just fine for you.”

“Great.”

And so Jaemin puts on his coat and makes his way out the front door. He leans on the cold wall of the building and starts roaming his pockets in search of a packet and lighter – the essential content of his coat, bag, backpack. Pushing the cigarette between his lips, Jaemin shivers a little, due to the strong wind. Damn the late spring. His hands tremble, as he bring the lighter up, but the wind gets stronger and puts out the fire.

From the corner of his eye, he sees another person standing by the door. He hears them shuffling but doesn’t pay much attention and once again tries to use the lighter. To no avail. Suddenly, the person comes up to him and when Jaemin shifts his eyes to them, he realizes that it’s Jeno with a cigarette between his lips. Jaemin is about to say something, maybe a short greeting, when the other pushes his face closer and joins the ends of their cigarettes together. The easiest way to light it up in a weather like this.

However, the sudden closeness of Jeno shocks Jaemin and he almost forgets to take the drag. _Almost._ Their eyes meet – black to black – and Jaemin wonders, whether the thing in Jeno’s orbs is sadness or just pure exhaustion. He shouldn’t contemplate it, they aren’t even friends, but somehow he can’t help himself.

Just before Jeno goes inside the building, after finishing his own cigarette, Jaemin takes a heavy drag and turns to him.

“Happy birthday, Jeno.”

 

 

 

Jaemin isn’t quite sure, why after two weeks he comes back to the café. The reason most likely settles somewhere between black eyes and long fingers, but for now he will say it is just music.

When Jeno’s father said that his son plays there few times a month, Jaemin thought he was just bragging. However, when he entered the website of the café, it confirmed that, in fact, Jeno does play there very often. What a coincidence.

It’s a Saturday evening and, even though, there is a party hosted by one of his classmates that Jaemin is invited to, he takes his sketchbook, new packet of cigarettes and enters the café. He still needs new inspirations for his portfolio, Jaemin tells himself, and music is a great resource.

The table, he occupied with Renjun and Jisung last week, is free, so he takes the same place, after ordering a cup of black coffee by the counter. As he read on the website, Jeno isn’t the only performer tonight, but thankfully he is the first one to give the concert.

To say the truth, Jaemin doesn’t have a crush on Jeno – that’s not the thing. It’s way too early and sudden to state, what his feelings truly mean. However, it is more like Jaemin is infatuated with the whole concept of their meeting – the piano, drawings and cigarettes. The atmosphere is what mostly dragged him here.

He doesn’t spot Jeno, until the boy comes up the stage and sits by the piano. There is some odd feeling about seeing a 19 – year – old dressed in a nicely tailored suit, but in this already bizarre set up, Jaemin can’t imagine Jeno looking any other way. He probably would feel strange seeing Jeno in jeans and an oversized hoodie. 

Music fills up the room, flowing through the air and vibrating in Jaemin’s core. As expected, he doesn’t recognize the melody, but tries to focus on the rhythm, the tempo and which parts are louder than the others. It’s a new experience of getting inspiration, however, Jaemin already likes it. It differs from his other resources – theatre, films and art galleries – but proves to be as effective as them.

Today, the sketchbook is laying open before him, waiting for him to take the pencil and fill the empty pages. With no need to rush, Jaemin draws the first smooth line that leads to another and the draft finally makes its way out of the boy’s mind and onto the paper. His hand follows the tempo of the melody, which results in creating a set of different drawings, depending on which song Jeno played.

The depth of charcoal engrosses him and soon Jaemin totally loses the track of time or the place, where he is. Because in this very moment, it is just him and the sheet of paper. His moves become more agitated, smoother but at the same time rougher and more expressive. He is so into it, he doesn’t realizes Jeno is done playing.

Only does he look up, when he hears a conversation nearby his table. His eyes land on Jeno and the man, who he remembers as his father. Eavesdropping is not really Jaemin’s thing, not like he ever has the need to hear, what other people are talking about, however, the look on Jeno’s face makes him curious. When they first met, there was courage and carefreeness all over his handsome features. But then when they met outdoor, Jaemin saw some uncertain emotions in the other’s eyes.

It feels like seeing a totally different man. Jeno bites into his bottom lip, frowns and doesn’t look up to meet his father’s eyes. He looks torn between guilt and anger, which spices up Jaemin’s interest, but also concern.

“Don’t you think, you were a little out of tune in the last piece?”

“I tried my best.”

“There is no questioning that,” Jeno’s father lean towards his son, which doesn’t prevent Jaemin from hearing the rest of their conversation. “I just want to remind you that a great music professor is here tonight.”

“Not like you didn’t mention it a thousand times.”

“I’m just concerned.”

“I know, dad.”

The older man pats his son on the shoulder and soon takes a pretty woman by the hand (she must by Jeno’s mother, they look alike) to go and meet with people crowding by the counter. Jeno stays left behind, looking like he truly doesn’t find joy in spending time here. His eyes rake around the café, by mistake catching a glimpse of Jaemin’s face.

They share a smile.

“I didn’t think, I’d be seeing you here again.” Jeno says, walking up to him and sitting on the chair beside Jaemin.

“Well, that’s a surprise for both of us.”

A hoarse laugh escapes Jeno’s throat and the sound resonates in Jaemin’s ears just like the music, he played before. They play pretend like the conversation between Jeno and his father never took place.

“Renjun told me you liked my concert, but I really didn’t expect you to come back.”

“Because I don’t look fancy enough?”

“No,” Jeno laughs again. “Because he said, you’re not going to spend money on coffee just to listen to me playing.”

“Renjun likes to talk shit.” Jaemin makes a mental note to have a serious talk with his friend.

“True.”

A short silence follows, through which Jaemin once again observes Jeno’s eyes. While his whole face resonates with mirth, his eyes stay reserved, with more restrictions than carefreeness. It is a strange sight, taken that Jeno is just 19 years old.

“You draw.” Is what wakes Jaemin up from his daydream. He slightly shakes his head. Just when Jeno reaches for the sketchbook, Jaemin lays a hand on it and shuts it tightly.

“I do.”

There is no real reason for him not to show Jeno his drawings, but due to a sudden feeling of self – consciousness, he finds himself putting the sketchbook in his bag.

“But you won’t show me.”

“Leave it for next time, Mr. Curious.”

When Jeno smiles, his teeth show up and eyes turn into crescent moons. His cheeks gain a little bit of color and his fringe gets past the line of his eyebrows. The memory of a gloomy looking boy gets covered by this radiating sight. The smile is the reason for Jaemin to come back.

 

 

 

The last signs of doubtful spring soon vanish and by the middle of May it already feels like the summer has arrived for good. The days get longer, nights warmer. The atmosphere of laziness enwraps everything around and slows the chaotic rhythm of the day.

There is no strong wind. Only a pleasant breeze, which ruffles hair and dispels the cigarette smoke. It caresses cheeks but doesn’t get through clothes to deprive bodies of their natural warmth. The sun hides behind the horizon, coloring the sky with pinks and purples.

Jaemin feels eyes on himself.

They burn holes in his body and leave tingling feeling on his unmarred skin. He doesn’t dare look, though. His eyes are focused on the ash tray that sits on the table beside him but don’t go further. They can’t.

“Stop staring.” he mutters under his nose, however, sans venom or any other negative emotion.

“Well, then stop being so fucking pretty.”

Jaemin wants to focus on the curse, at which he fails miserably. A smile makes its way onto his lips accompanied by a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks. The cigarette almost slips from between his fingers. The compliment was bound to make an appearance sooner or later and Jaemin knew, he would never be prepared for it. He looks up.

Jeno has a cigarette propped between his thin lips that, too, are spread into a smile. The action makes his eyes almost disappear and define much more his jawline. He’s not wearing the jacket at the moment, which leaves him only in slacks and a white shirt – slightly unbuttoned at the top. It is a captivating sight and Jaemin knows, it’s going to haunt him for days.

“Tell me about yourself.” Jeno says, exhaling the words with a puff of smoke.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything,” he answers and leans on the table, scooping closer to Jaemin and looking him directly in the eyes. “Your drawings.”

They take baby steps, but even though, it is their third meeting, this is the first time they can casually talk. Getting to know each other can be quite awkward, but the subject of Jaemin’s passion definitely is a smooth one. He starts freely with his love for art, for carrying out all the ideas that are being born in his mind. Then he swiftly moves to his plan to get into Seoul Institute of the Arts and misses the way Jeno looks at him with frank admiration.

About ten minutes into his rant, Jaemin realizes he’s just talking about himself.

“That’s pretty much all, I can tell you. The rest you should discover yourself,” He takes the cigarettes out, offers one to Jeno and lights his own one. It’s their third round in the last 30 minutes. “Can I have my share of questions now?”

Jeno’s black fringe falls onto his eyes, as he nods.

“The piano. When did you start playing?”

“At the age of five.”

“Is it still fun or more of a burden?”

“I breath through keys.”

The answer satisfies Jaemin. He admires artists with true passion towards their work but after the incident, when he heard Jeno and his father’s conversation, he was scared the slightly older boy no longer put his whole in playing. Thankfully, he is wrong.

Despite the fact that Jeno just declared his love for playing the piano, he looks uneasy. His eyebrows furrow, teeth bit into bottom lip and his whole face starts to remind the one he sported, while talking to his father. Jaemin doesn’t like it.

“So, is there anything else special about you, Lee Jeno?” he asks with a playful smile on his lips. Jaemin wants to change the topic the fastest he can. “You seem like a good kid, but then you’re casually smoking, when your father is just inside the café. What are you really? A good boy or a bad boy?”

“Little bit of both, I suppose.”

And with theses words, he takes a long drag, catching Jaemin’s eyes and stares into them. Aura around him quickly changes and once again he reminds more of the cool and courageous Jeno. The look, which makes Jaemin’s throat dry, is back.

“Um, do you have anyone? Like girlfriend?” The question makes its way past his lips unintentionally. He really shouldn’t ask now, when they have been shamelessly flirting with each other before.

“No.” Jeno answers and there is a small smile forming on his thin lips.

“Boyfriend?”

Suddenly, Jeno stands up from his seat. He puts out the cigarette and takes a deep breath. His hand reaches out and makes its way to Jaemin’s cheek but abruptly stops just few centimeter before touching his skin.

“Let’s get inside. I need to warm up before the concert.”

The question stays without any proper answer.

 

 

 

Sitting straight by his desk can be quite a challenge, when Jaemin’s head feels, as if it is filled with cotton. He probably had one drink too much yesterday, but he cannot find it in himself to regret. His parents left for the weekend and he just took the opportunity to draw, while having a glass of wine. That’s what eases his senses, when he works at home. The problem is in the fact that he may have lost count of the glasses and bottles, he drank last night.

This is the reason, why his head is struck by an unpleasant ache that keeps him from focusing on the lesson. And he pretty much would like to remember at least half of the material, as they are talking about Japanese occupation of Korea in the first half of the 20th century. Jaemin adores history – the lessons are interesting and the professor is nice – but today his head is not cooperating and it unnerves him.

Renjun is sitting two rows before him and shamelessly texting with someone on his phone. The professor seems to notice it, but lets him be. Jaemin would think that he’s talking to Jisung or the pretty girl from year below that Renjun has eyes on, however, his fingers are too animated for it to be one of the two.

Soon the bell rings and Jaemin feels all his muscles giving up, as his body surges forward and onto the desk. He buries his face in his poor excuse of history notes and hopes the vibrant pink ink – with which he writes – doesn’t mark his face. The students are making noise, distracting Jaemin and his headache, so that he doesn’t notice, when someone stops by him.

“You could use some aspirin, Nana.” It’s Renjun with his soft voice and motherly sense that informs him beforehand, when his best friend is not feeling well.

Jaemin lets a whine escape his throat, which confirms, what Renjun has just said. He should take some pills, but he doesn’t have any, does not want to go to the infirmary with a hangover and most certainly needs a smoke, however, the lessons finish in three hours.

“I’ll give you one,” he continues, but his tone scares Jaemin a little. “But you have to answer my question first.”

“What is it?” Jaemin asks, turning his head without taking it off the desk.

“Why didn’t you tell me, you are seeing Jeno?”

Jaemin abruptly straightens in his chair with eyes wide open and jaw hanging loose. It was bound to happen. Renjun had to realize his two friends are meeting behind his back sooner or later. Jaemin actually prayed for the latter. He still is not sure, why he’s visiting Jeno in the café – does not know, whether it is about just finding a new friend or maybe, _maybe_ , something else.

“When did you realize?”

“He told me, when I saw him this weekend, but the question is, why didn’t _you_ tell me?” There is no anger in Renjun’s voice, just curiosity and a shadow of a smirk on his lips. Jaemin isn’t sure, if he should be merry or petrified.

“I just—“ he starts, but doesn’t know, where he should go with the answer. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know, why you didn’t tell me?”

“Yes and why I’m even seeing him. I just do.”

Renjun sighs overdramatically and rolls his eyes. He mutters few words in Chinese, but Jaemin doesn’t catch them. He’s probably annoyed – at least, that’s what his face is showing.

“I asked to see, if you are clueless or not,” He dips his hand into the pocket of his slacks and takes out a single packet of aspirin. He lays it on Jaemin’s table, before meeting the other’s eyes. “But it turns out you are.”

 

 

 

The truth is, Jaemin isn’t as clueless as Renjun describes him to be. He is aware, why he is going to the café. Jeno is a talented man, who floats between being cute and terribly sexy. His handsome features easily crack into those of joy and mirth, but it only adds more charm to his persona. Their relation is refreshing, as it is difficult for Jaemin to find a boy, who would be interested in him and at the same time wouldn’t turn out to be a total creep.

Jaemin might like Jeno a little bit too much but it is just so early to say anything more about these feelings.

Nonetheless, Jaemin tries to not dwell on the reason, why he is drawing the other boy right now. He dropped by the café, just like any other time that Jeno gives concerts, and decided to finally present the other with one of his sketches. So he took a place near the piano and let his hand work, while his mind was occupied with Mendelssohn’s _“Song without words”_ in A flat major. (Again, that’s what the program said.)

The curves of Jeno’s nose and jawline are sharp, cutting through the paper and almost making the paper bleed. On the other hand, his fingers smoothly touch the keys and keep a lot of delicacy in each and every move. Jaemin knows, his drawing in nowhere near the real Jeno – it still lacks this special combination of hard and smooth – but it does not change the fact that it is a very good drawing.

Once Jeno finishes playing, he bows to the audience, which all together starts clapping. He makes his way off the stage and Jaemin takes it as a sign to come up to him.

Today is different. Jeno does not sport his usual smile and the courageous look in his eyes is gone. Jaemin hopes it’s just tiredness, nothing more serious, but he doubts he’s right. Because the thing about Jeno – that Jaemin is just about to realize – is that he has some kind of secret. He’s hiding something deeply inside his heart and living in such state is never a good option. One day or another, he will break.

“Hi,” Jaemin says softly, catching Jeno’s attention. He smiles, seeing the other male, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They stay dark, clouded with some kind of inner turmoil.

“Jaeminnie,” Jeno’s deep voice is soft on the edges – balancing between boyish and manly – and Jaemin feels his own eyes shining with excitement. “I saw you in the from row. How uncommon.”

Strangely, it calms Jaemin to know that Jeno noticed his presence. He thought the other was a little absentminded, a little out of this reality, but it turns out Jaemin is still far away from being able to easily read Jeno.

“I needed a better look for that.” He takes out a piece of paper, folded into two, on which he earlier drew the pianist. He’s slightly scared to give the sketch just like that to Jeno (probably because of an added note next to the drawing), so in one, swift move he places it in the pocket on the other’s chest. His fingers stay on the material for few seconds too long.

“What is it?”

“A drawing. You may look at it later.”

Jeno’s smile becomes less fake, less forced and the longer he looks as Jaemin, the better he seems to feel.

“They know me well here,” he says, reaching for his bowtie and trying to loose it. “If you want to, I can get them to serve us some wine.”

The promise of drinking outdoor, while still not being legal, sounds inviting, but, firstly, Jaemin focuses on Jeno’s fingers, which have difficulty taking off the bowtie.

“Let me.”

His own fingers brush on Jeno’s ones, while the older boy lets go of the material. Jaemin holds the knot and pushes his thumb underneath to loose it. He pulls a bit and soon the knot gives up and Jaemin can easily take off the bowtie. He should move away, his task is finished, however, the temptation is too much.

When there is a possibility, Jeno leaves the shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top. Anyway, he is going to undo it now, so Jaemin takes the opportunity. His cheeks burn, while his fingers slowly work with the first button. He feels Jeno’s dark eyes on him, but he does not dare look. It might be too much for him. Breath stills in his lungs, as he makes his way to the second button.

Jaemin tries to believe that he is not undressing Jeno in the middle of a café.

He reaches the third one with the intention to also undo it. The last time they saw each other Jeno had three buttons undone. While his fingers stay in place, Jaemin dares to look up into those dark and endless eyes. They hypnotize, lure him in with all their mystery and beauty and suddenly Jaemin realizes, he wants to kiss Jeno.

It’s a strange feeling, unknown to him, something new, something alluring. He might have dwell on it, if someone didn’t just break their moment.

“Jeno.”

It’s his father.

Jaemin pulls his hands away from the other boy and takes one step backward. Shame creeps onto his back, but is not strong enough to make him leave. He puts on his characteristic smile and shifts his eyes towards the older man.

“Yes, dad?”

“I wanted you to meet professor Moon, who might give a lesson or two in the future.”

“Um, yeah, I was just– You haven’t met Jaemin yet. This is my f r i e n d, dad. Na Jaemin.” The way Jeno just stressed the word “friend” and made a quick eye contact with the latter, makes Jaemin feel like two five – year – olds, who communicate with a special code, so that no adult understands them. It’s a pleasant feeling and he involuntarily smiles even wider.

Jeno’s father turns to him and gives him a quick onceover. It’s a little uncomfortable, but right then the older man also responds with a smile and shakes Jaemin’s hand. It is a good start, Jaemin thinks, but right then he turns to his son and the smile falters.

“Please, come with me. He is waiting.”

“Just a minute and I’ll meet you, dad.”

“Jeno.”

“Dad.”

Silently they look at each other, their eyes competing in a battle Jaemin is not a part of. He expects to witness a parent – child fight, maybe few harsh words. However, Jeno soon looks away and bows his head in defeat. For the boy, who smokes a lot and offers illegal drinks, he quite easily loses with his father. Strange.

Jeno’s father says that it was nice meeting Jaemin and then turns to leave. Jeno sights and slowly makes his way after his parent. The rebel part of Jeno dies easily in the match against his father and it kind of scare Jaemin – the duality of his behavior with and without his father in the picture.

“I’m sorry. See you around, Nana.”

A warm hand brushes on his fingers, envelopes them for a second and reluctantly lets go. It is a small but meaningful gesture that Jaemin should pay attention to – especially to his own increasing heartbeat. However, he can only focus on what Jeno has just said – on the nickname.

How does he know?

 

 

 

**Unknown number**  
_I think it’s very you to give me a drawing with your number written in the corner  
_ 07:21 pm

**Unknown number**  
_and the sketch is great! I really like it : >  
_07:21 pm

**Unknown number**  
_am I truly that handsome?  
_ 07:22 pm

**Unknown number**  
_it’s Jeno btw  
_ 07:25 pm

**Nana**  
_I realized it’s u  
_ 07:31 pm

**Nana**  
_not like I give my number to any random guy  
_ 07:31 pm

**Jeno**  
_so it’s only me?  
_ 07:32 pm

**Nana**  
_only u  
_ 07:34 pm

**Jeno**  
_I’m fluttered  
_ 07:35 pm

**Nana**  
_don’t get too full of urself  
_ 07:36 pm

**Jeno**  
_can’t help myself when the artist did such a great job  
_ 07:37 pm

**Nana**  
_you’re doing it again  
_ 07:40 pm

**Jeno**  
_doing what  
_ 07:42 pm

**Nana**  
_doing IT  
_ 07:45 pm

**Nana**  
_saying things and  
_ 07:46 pm

**Nana**  
_making me feel  
_ 07:46 pm

**Nana**  
_like… ugh  
_ 07:46 pm

**Jeno**  
_sorry  
_ 07:47 pm

**Jeno**  
_forgot I can’t see ur face and the way u blush  
_ 07:47 pm

**Nana**  
_Lee Jeno!  
_ 07:47 pm

**Jeno**  
_hey it’s me!  
_ 07:47 pm

**Nana**  
_can I have a question?  
_ 07:54 pm

**Jeno**  
_ofc :)  
_ 07:55 pm

**Nana**  
_how do u know my nickname?  
_ 07:56 pm

**Jeno**  
_isn’t it obvious?  
_ 07:56 pm

**Nana**  
_?  
_ 07:56 pm

**Jeno**  
_Renjun  
_ 07:57 pm

**Nana**  
_oh this shithead  
_ 07:57 pm

**Nana**  
_I should have known  
_ 07:58 pm

**Jeno**  
_don’t u like it?  
_ 08:01 pm

**Nana**  
_that’s not the case  
_ 08:01 pm

**Nana**  
_it’s just embarrassing  
_ 08:02 pm

**Jeno**  
_it’s cute  
_ 08:03 pm

**Jeno**  
_and pretty  
_ 08:03 pm

**Jeno**  
_just like u  
_ 08:04 pm

**Nana**  
_stop it pls  
_ 08:06 pm

**Jeno**  
_why should i?  
_ 08:07 pm

**Jeno**  
_you are pretty on the outside  
_ 08:08 pm

**Jeno**  
_pretty on the inside  
_ 08:08 pm

**Jeno**  
_just Na Jaemin  
_ 08:08 pm

 

 

 

Going to school is tiering; being scared of telling what’s on your mind to your friend is tiering; having feelings for another boy is tiering. Generally, Jaemin is just terribly exhausted. He wishes his mind (and heart) would take a break from overthinking things, _overfeeling_ , and let his brain work properly.

Taking a walk seems like an enjoyable activity to unwind and calm his mind. Today, he opts for not using public transportation and instead travels the road back home on foot. The sun is warming his skin with bright rays, as a gentle wind plays with his hair. The weather is nice, but it does nothing to sooth the inner turmoil of his.

Jaemin lights up a cigarette.

It burns his lungs, intoxicates his body and, finally, slows his mind. At the age of eighteen (almost nineteen) Jaemin does not give a shit about the heavy smell of cigarettes or the way smoking might influence his health. It gives him pain mixed with pleasure and it’s all he needs to remind himself of how alive he is.

“Nana!”

The sound of his name gets tangled in the wind and for a moment, Jaemin is sure the voice he heard was deep and smooth, hard and sweet. But when he slows down and turns around his hopes vanish in the air.

“Jisung Park.” he mutters under his breath. It’s not like he doesn’t want to see his friend. It’s just that he really could use some solitude right now.

“Share a cigarette, my dear friend.”

“What the hell, you’re like three.”

“Why is everyone so boring?”

Jisung pulls things like that many times just to irk Jaemin or Renjun. He tries to see, how will they react or whether one day they break their facade. With his young age and babylike face he can forget about illegally buying cigarettes or alcohol.

“So what’s up? You’ve been silent all day.”

“There is a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah?”

Jisung jumps a little beside Jaemin and straightens his backpack. The energy surges in his veins, making him restless and jittery. It looks like he has quite a problem with keeping his limbs still. Maybe it’s a sugar overload.

The older debates with himself, whether it is a good idea to let Jisung know about his feelings. When Renjun realized, he seemed to spill a lot to Jeno, which is nothing but terrible. Jaemin would pretty much like to have a saying in what Jeno knows and doesn’t know about him.

“I need to talk with someone,” he starts taking another drag. “But there is no one I can trust.”

“Does your problem start with ‘Je’ and ends with ‘No’?”

“So you know too?! Renjun just had to tell everyone!”

The cigarette ends up thrown on the ground and smashed with Jaemin’s sneaker.

“I don’t get, why you are so nervous,” Jisung pushes his fists into the pocket of his slacks and bounces on his feet. “Jeno is a great guy.”

The worst thing is that Jisung makes everything seem so easy. All that he’s saying is true – Jaemin shouldn’t stress himself out. Jeno is an amazing person. But this is the case. What if they are good as long as they flirt, but if it gets more serious, they wouldn’t work?

“It’s just… scary.” he declares finally, getting the stress off his chest.

“Well, that’s understandable. You’ve never been in a serious relationship.”

Jaemin thinks about it and realizes Jisung is slightly wrong. It’s true that Jaemin shouldn’t be scared about the fact that he has never dated anyone in a more serious way. They are teenagers, no one really has experience. However, Jisung is wrong about the source of Jaemin’s distress. Jaemin is scared of the duality he saw in Jeno. Because he does not know, if Jeno is just an obedient kid or if there are some stronger and much more dangerous feelings inside him. And Jaemin is only another teen, who also has problems with handling himself. He might not be able to adequately help Jeno.

That’s what truly scares him.

 

 

 

The next time Jaemin comes to the café, Jeno is nowhere to be seen. There still is almost an hour until the concert should start, but any other time he came, the pianist could have been found by one of the tables or drawn into a conversation with someone.

Today is different.

Yesterday’s night Jaemin spent on talking with Jeno on the phone. It started off with Jeno saying that he _missed Nana’s voice_ but soon waivered into complaining about school and arguing, whether making music or painting is a greater kind of art. There was no struggle or awkward tension in their conversation, only smooth words and calming feelings.

This is why today, Jaemin expects Jeno to wait for him – maybe by his table, maybe by the door, anywhere. But there is no sign of him. So Jaemin places his bag, where he usually sits in the back and wonders. Where is Jeno? What is he doing? Why isn’t he here yet?

Such a bizarre situation makes Jaemin anxious. His right leg starts to quake on it’s own and his fingers tap an unrhythmic melody onto the surface of the table. A unsettling feeling rises in the pit of his stomach, but he deems it on the absence of Jeno. Jaemin is so used to his presence in the café that not seeing him here just makes him a little bit nervous.

Deciding that maybe a splash of cold water on his face would calm him down, he gets up and goes to the bathroom. On his way there he sees Jeno’s father franticly sipping on a glass of whiskey. The sight doesn’t do anything to hush his worries, but Jaemin keeps on walking after just shaking his head. _Everything is fine._

And Jaemin believes in it, as long as he doesn’t enter the bathroom. Because the thing he sees there, is what he’s been scared of for so long.

The bathroom is divided into two parts – the front one, where the sinks are, and the further one with the stalls. There are doors between them and someone is standing in front of them at the moment. Their left hand rests on the doorframe, while the right one holds the door ajar. They seem to not realize that someone has just entered the bathroom. Or maybe they just don’t care.

Jeno.

Jaemin quickly recognizes the broad shoulders covered with a white shirt and a characteristic mop of black hair. The uncomfortable feeling in his stomach should go away by now. He has found him, there is no reason to worry.

But for the hand Jeno is holding on the doorframe.

It doesn’t get a genius to realize, what is happening. Jeno is not just casually standing there. He situated his hand, especially fingers, so that he can break them with the use of door. And it terrifies Jaemin to know that he’s found him just on time, because minutes, maybe seconds later it could have been too late.

He carefully comes closer, tying not to scare Jeno, but at the same time making his presence known. He stops right behind him – chest to back – and delicately lays his hand on the one Jeno placed on the door frame. That way even if the pianist decides to hurt himself, he won’t be the only one injured.

“Don’t,” Jaemin says softly, pushing his nose through Jeno’s bangs. He smells of cigarettes and despair. “Don’t do it.”

Jaemin puts his right arm round Jeno’s waist and holds him tight, as if his life depends on it. It somehow does. If Jeno breaks his fingers in the spun of a moment, his whole career will be ruined. And Jaemin cannot let that happen.

“Let’s talk,” he tries again, but to no avail. “Jeno, tell me, what is– “

“Take your hand away.”

“Jeno.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

The scariest thing is that Jeno is not shivering, trembling or even slightly shaking. He stands confident and set on accomplishing his goal. Only his raging breath is giving out, how scared he truly is.

“You’re already doing it,” Jaemin tries to sound convincing, in control of the situation, while in fact, he is far from that. “You’re aware, what is going to happen, if you break your fingers. Don’t be stupid.”

Silence is the only answer he gets. Jeno is breathing heavily, his grip on the door tightens and his hand under Jaemin’s one stays unmoving. He doesn’t say anything, no arguing, no complaining, no screaming, no crying. Nothing.

“Did he hurt you?”

Asking the question feels like stepping on thin ice, but Jaemin is running out of ideas and probably out of time, too. Jeno doesn’t look discouraged from his plan to hurt himself.

But the moment he exhales heavily and trembles slightly in Jaemin’s hold, he shows that his façade is gradually starting to fall apart.

“That’s where everyone is wrong,” he answers, voice surging with anger, despair, and Jaemin has never heard him like that. “It isn’t my father’s fault.”

Hearing his voice breaking, Jaemin’s heart clenches and then starts rapidly beating in his chest. His hold on Jeno tightens, fingers digging into the material of the shirt and chest pressing even further into his warm back. He buries his face in Jeno’s neck and wishes, begs, _prays_ for him to open up and stop tormenting himself.

“He has high expectations but it’s only because of how much work, passion and money he’s invested into me. He’s my parent, he worries. It’s totally okay. He’s given me so much – _so_ much – and all I want to do is– I just– ”

And then he tenses all his muscles, shivers and stands on the verge of breaking apart.

“I want to repay for everything he’s ever given me. But I’m scared, I won’t succeed, won’t be enough and after all these years I will not be able to stand seeing disappointment in his eyes. Never. So if I break my fingers, I wouldn’t have to do any of this.”

The truth is there, right in front of Jaemin’s eyes, and it’s so much different from what he has expected. Jeno’s father is not a bad parent, he’s great actually, and it’s just Jeno’s problem with handling all the expectations that lay upon his shoulders.

“Frustra laborat qui omnibus placere studet.” Jaemin’s voice is muffled by the pianist’s skin, as he’s still pressing his face into the other’s shoulder. However, his words catch Jeno’s attention, so he slightly turns his head, as if he wants to look at Jaemin. “It means ‘trying to please everyone is a waste of time’.”

“You don’t get it,” Jeno says sternly. “I should repay my debt. He deserves it.”

A heavy sight escapes Jaemin’s lips. He needs to make Jeno realize that the real meaning of life is a little different, but the pianist is not going to like it. He takes his head off Jeno’s shoulder and rests his forehead on the top of his head. His hand slips from the door frame and joins the other in holding the slightly older boy’s waist.

“We’re talking about your future, Jeno. Yours not your father’s. And in this case, only what you want really matters. You’re choosing your path, you’re achieving your dreams, you’re responsible for the consequences.”

“But– ”

“No buts! Sometimes we got to be egoistic just to not forget that in our life we are the most important person. It works in every aspect of our lives. First, you have to love yourself to love others; do something for yourself before you start doing it for others.”

Jaemin feels the body in his hold loosening up, getting rid of the tension that crept into the muscles. His own heart gets back to its regular beat and he’s content.

But right then he hears the loud bang of the doors being harshly closed and his heart instantly drops. He quickly lets go of Jeno’s waist and moves to get a hold of his left hand. He takes it delicately, scared of bringing the other boy even more pain. However, the longer he looks at it, the better he sees that the hand is totally fine. Jeno even moves his fingers, as if to indicate that they’re all fine.

“Fuck, you scared me.”

Jeno’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which is a rare and sad sight. 

“I can’t do this,” he says and turns so that he can fully face Jaemin. “I need to do this for him. I don’t know, how to do it for myself.”

“But it’s killing you.”

By the look in Jeno’s eyes, no one has ever pointed the fact to him. But since the moment Jaemin started to get to know him, he knew that there was something off about the pianist. Something scary. And it turns out he was right. Jeno is uncapable of caring about himself, only thinking about the others – what they think, what they feel, what they want. And it’s probably one of many issues that he has.

“I have to succeed. For him. And if I don’t then…”

“Jeno!” Jaemin is frustrated, angry at himself and the latter. He knows, he’s in no position to save him. A mare teenager really cannot do anything, but he has to try, even though, he’s doomed. “If you don’t, then nothing will happen. Because he loves you, cares about you and will always be proud of you.”

Jeno’s attitude is so unhealthy, so destructive that it pains Jaemin to the extent, where he wants to cry. But they’re not overreacting. Jeno’s face is sad, but he is not about to shed any tears, while Jaemin is also not going to let out his inner feelings. However, the need to comfort the other boy is so strong that before he can react, he loops his arms around Jeno’s neck and hugs him tightly.

Just then, after Jeno lays his hands on Jaemin’s hips, does he truly realize, what he’s done. They’re so close, space between them nonexistent and Jaemin feels, as his face colors with the deep shade of red.

The pianist still hasn’t given him any response to his long rant, but as Jeno slightly moves his head, Jaemin expects him to speak up. Instead, Jeno turns a little and presses a soft kiss to Jaemin’s cheek.

_A nonverbal thank you._

And it looks like from now on everything could go right. They’re finding peace, calming themselves and maybe, _maybe_ , if Jaemin tries hard enough, he could help the other.

But then there is a sound of the door, leading straight to the bathroom, being opened and they quickly break apart. However, the one, who just entered, is bound to have seen them. And to top it all, it’s Jeno’s father. His face is calm, but for the furrow of his defined brows. It gives out that he may not be content with, what he has just witnessed.

“You have to warm up before the concert.”

He says these simple words and leaves silently. He looks surprised, but not angered with them. But by the way Jeno’s breath hitches, he must be scared to death. He probably hasn’t told his parent about his orientation, as well. Jeno is much more complicated then Jaemin has thought at the beginning, but he’s willing to stay, be there for him, help him and he’s so sure about it.

“You should go home.” Jeno says. He’s gone pale and looks, as if he could pass out any minute.

“What?”

Suddenly, he takes Jaemin by the hand and pulls him closer, so that their eyes meet and foreheads touch. His eyes are stern, extremely serious and Jaemin is so taken aback that he forgets to breath.

“Don’t come back, Nana.”

 

 

 

The lines are harsh, ripping through the paper without mercy. They do not create any forms, patterns or shapes. They’re just angry lines, which pierce the empty space. Chaos, destruction, desolation. Tears of frustrated charcoal.

Jaemin rips another page out of his sketchbook and carelessly throws it on the floor. He’s been mindlessly sketching for the better part of the lunch break. Instead of joining other students in the cafeteria, he feeds off the frustration that rises inside him. And in the end, each and every draft lands on the cold floor, not forgotten but abandoned. Jaemin feels just like the drawings.

“Don’t come back, my ass.”

His fingers are marked with the black of coal, which stays in the lines on skin and gets under fingernails. But Jaemin does not care, does not notice, as his mind is still replaying the events of the last time he has seen Jeno.

It has been two weeks since he went out of the café and till that time, he didn’t hear from him. Jaemin calls, leaves messages on voicemail and texts Jeno at least few times a day but the other stays silent. No responses. Unexpectedly, the feeling of being left out is much worse then Jaemin expected.

“You’re a mess.”

The soft but patronizing voice can only belong to Huang Renjun. Jaemin glances at his friend, who makes his way into the empty classroom. He pushes the papers aside with his foot and finally takes a seat on the desk that stands before Jaemin’s one.

“I made a mess.” he corrects sternly, trying to hide the fact that in truth Renjun is not wrong. Jaemin is not handling the whole _being – left – behind_ as smooth as he should.

“True as well, Nana.”

“Don’t call me Nana.”

“That’s what everyone calls you.”

“Exactly.”

Jaemin rips yet another page from the sketchbook and throws it to the floor. He could really use a smoke right now but he cannot leave the schoolground before the lessons end. Another issue, which frustrates him.

“I’m gonna say something I was not supposed to share with you but you’re miserable and I’m fed up with your moods,” Renjun rarely shows, how fed up he is, so Jaemin takes his words quite seriously. He puts the coal aside and straightens in the seat to look at his friend. “He’s sorry.”

Muscles tense, fingers shake and the need to draw (or smoke) surges in Jaemin with doubled power. There is a reason why Renjun is not even using Jeno’s name and it’s because Jaemin cannot standing it without feeling his throat clench up.

“That’s not enough,” he rasps out and gets back to drawing. Hard lines covering the once smooth surface.

“You’re not even angry with him, you’re angry with yourself.”

“Please, stop.”

“No. I gave you both time but apparently he’s too scared and you’re too stupid.”

Through out the dark shades and uneven line, it is possible to make out the shape of piano on Jaemin’s drawing. Jeno has been on his mind every single day, however, it doesn’t occur out of anger. What keeps his heart restless is the constant concern about Jeno.  

“What am I supposed to do?” Jaemin asks, his voice giving out his inner discomfort. “Our relation will only bring him more worries. That’s why he’s been giving me cold shoulder.”

“Why are we even friends?” Renjun mutters under his breath. He combs his hair with his fingers and rolls his eyes. “Na Jaemin, being almost 19 doesn’t refrain you from rebelling. So move your lazy ass and get the boy before…”

Jaemin doesn’t hear the rest of Renjun’s speech. He is aware, how the sentence ends. Before someone outruns you. Before Jeno truly hurts himself. And Jaemin is scared, petrified even, but as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Renjun is right. There is no time to waste, because what is today would soon be yesterday and maybe, _maybe_ , Jaemin just realized, what he truly wants from life.

 

 

 

It turns out meeting with Jeno is much more complicated then he previously thought. Due to the fact that the boy is not responding to Jaemin’s calls and messages, it is impossible to ask him to meet somewhere, _anywhere_. So he decides to go to the café and show up on the concert. Though, it’s not so easy, either. The earliest Jeno is supposed to play is three days after his talk with Renjun. However, the day before a note shows up on the page, informing that the concert has been cancelled. Reasons not provided. So Jaemin has the opportunity to see Jeno only after next two weeks, which means that in total they haven’t seen each other for over a month.

As he enters through the front door the familiar scent of coffee wraps around him, eases his nerves and it feels, as if he never left in the first place. On Saturday evenings the café is the most crowded with elderly people sitting in the front rows and nicely dressed adults by the tables. Jaemin’s table is occupied, so he searches for a place, he could take. And as his eyes roam around, he has a bizarre feeling of déjà vu.

Jeno’s father is sitting by the counter, slowly sipping on an amber whiskey. His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. His face is full of concern, though, not anger or exasperation. There is an empty seat right beside him.

“Hello, Mr. Lee.” he greets and takes the seat.

Jaemin is much less intimidated by Jeno’s father than the boy itself. He sees genuine worry in his eyes and does not believe that the man can do any harm to his son. Jaemin believes that Jeno is just stressed out and takes thing in a wrong way.

“Jaemin, right?” the man asks and looks up from his drink. Jaemin nods. “I haven’t seen you for a while.” A smile appears on his face, making the wrinkles around his lips more prominent.

“The last concert was cancelled.”

“Ah, right. Jeno’s been acting strange lately. I worry about him.”

The tone of his voice suggests his desire to let Jaemin know, what bothers him. It can only mean that, even though, he saw them the last time in the bathroom, he’s got no problem with anything that was happening between the two boys. Jaemin wants to smile brightly but the sad look in the man’s eyes refrain him from doing so.

“Did anything happen?” Jaemin asks.

“He refuses to play. Even now, he went out the backdoor and doesn’t intend to come back. Maybe you could talk to him?”

There is a silent plea in the eyes of Jeno’s father, as he sends Jaemin a sad smile. The boy decides that it’s a miracle to have such a loving and caring parent and takes it upon himself to make Jeno realize this value. There is no reason for him to be scared.

“I will try my best.”

And so, he makes his way towards the exit in the back of the café, where Mr. Lee pointed. With each step his stomach turns a little and his heartbeat rapidly increases. The anticipation to finally see Jeno is enormous. No logical thinking, no reasonable emotions, but the need to feel the warm presence of the other boy.

He finds him sitting on a concrete step and leaning on the cold wall of the building. Heavy smoke surrounds his form and lingers on his lips, each time he exhales. Jeno is so handsome like that – with an absentminded look and a serious face. Jaemin is weak for him, right now fully aware of the way Jeno makes him feel, but he doesn’t fight it. He already accepted his heart’s choice.

The latter doesn’t notice Jaemin’s presence, which gives him an opportunity to quietly come up to Jeno and sit beside him. The smell of smoke wraps around the both of them and their shoulder touch. It’s quiet – the only sound being the drags Jeno takes from his cigarette.

“Hi,” Jaemin says softly. He looks at Jeno, the way their eyes don’t meet and his jaw clenches slightly. He does not respond. “It’s been a while.”

“I told you not to come back.” Jeno finally answers, but his voice lacks any venom. He’s soft and smooth, even though, he probably would like to be intimidating. There still is more dread than anger in him.

“You did, but I rarely listen to what others tell me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Jeno’s voice cracks a little and exposes how scared he is.

“Didn’t you miss me?”

It’s a blunt question, asked without any form of reflection, however, Jaemin has got enough of thinking. There are things that need to be said and he has to let his mind work on its own to accomplish this goal.

Jeno turns towards him – straight eyebrows, prominent cheekbones and defined jaw line – and his face screams of maturity and concern. But for the look in his eyes. This is where the little lost boy stays. He throws the cigarette to the ground and still not breaking eye contact with Jaemin, tangles his fingers into the other’s hair and pushes their foreheads together.

“Of course, I did.”

The sudden action makes Jaemin’s heart beat three times faster, but he doesn’t back away. He basks in the warm touch and gentle caress of Jeno’s hand on his neck. Furthermore, he does not pay much attention to Jeno’s change of attitude – he’s scared, but also missed Jaemin, so there is no way any contradictions wouldn’t show up.

“I talked with your dad,” Jaemin starts cautiously. The hand on his neck stills.

“Why did you do it?”

“He worries about you. You don’t notice it, but he just wants, what’s the best for you, and he will always accept all of your choices.”

The hold on his hair tightens and it hurt just a tiny bit.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s got no problem with _us_.”

It is not the actual truth. Jaemin didn’t directly talk about their relation with Mr. Lee but he is one hundred percent sure that the man has no problem with it. For now, he just needs to ensure Jeno of his father’s positive attitude.

Jeno looks like he wants to ask millions of questions, however, he refrains from doing so. He pulls away from Jaemin, but not taking his hand away from his neck. He looks him in the eyes.

“It doesn’t change the fact that if I don’t succeed in my future career, he will be disappointed.”

“You’re wrong!”

“How do you know?” Jeno furrows his brows and once again he looks totally lost. “You don’t live with him, you don’t see him every day.”

“Then talk to him,” Jaemin hooks his arms around Jeno’s neck, while the latter rolls his eyes. “If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for me.”

The way Jeno looks at him makes his cheeks cover with a blush and his heart lose its right beat. He bites into his lower lip, trying not to seem too nervous with the way they desperately hold onto each other.

“Damn you, pretty boy.”

And just like that the both of the smile – widely, carelessly, leaving the worries for another day. Jeno still looks torn between wanting to laugh out loud and cry all night, but for now, he’s safe. In Jaemin’s hold. The other boy will stick to him, follow him, but won’t let Jeno do any harm to himself. His attitude is unhealthy and should be supervised.

The silence between them calms their nerves, shushes their tousled minds and makes space for the strong beat of their hearts. Jeno is not fine, not healed, not freed, though, he’s a little better, a little more at ease with his own self. There is something akin to remedy, to a painkiller, and he desperately wants to try it.

And Jaemin slowly shuts his eyes closed, as Jeno leans forward and gently presses their lips together. They’re awkward, little out of tune, their shades not fully complementary to each other, but the kiss is soft, soothing and there is nothing more they need.

“Wow.”

“Wow, indeed.”

“We just kissed.”

“Renjun’s gonna give us the talk of our life.”

“Jeno, you just ruined the mood!”

They laugh, pressing their foreheads together and tightening their hold on each other. Jeno winds his arms around Jaemin’s waist and pulls him even closer, so that there is no empty space between them.

“I’ll keep you safe.” Jaemin makes a promise and it’s reckless, because they’re nineteen and still in high school, but he’s willing to try. “Now, will you play for my and the others?”

And Jeno just presses a light kiss to his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you like the story, please, leave a comment, it will help me develope my skills for the next work. Also, note that I am not an English native, so I am terribly sorry for any mistakes that I made.


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